


Is It Real?

by katling



Series: Dragon Age Alternative Pairing Week [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, and its effects, mentions of withdrawal, or speculation about lyrium withdrawal anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyrium withdrawal was not what Cullen was expecting and for a while he doesn't know whether what he's feeling is real or not. By the time he does, he thinks he's lost his chance. Turns out, he hasn't.</p>
<p>Written for Day 1 of the Dragon Age Alternative Pairing Week - First Meetings. Kind of a loose interpretation really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Real?

Lyrium withdrawal was not what Cullen was expecting. He’d seen them in Kirkwall, the Templars who had been expelled from the Order. He’d seen them begging for coins to buy black market lyrium or even just dust if they were desperate enough. Once he’d gotten his head back on straight and before things had fallen apart, he’d even contributed to those coins, even tried to find ways to get these men and women to other cities and other Knight-Commanders who might still see their worth to the Order and always, _always_ shuddered away from the desperation, the pain, the wildness he’d seen in their eyes. He’d never imagined that he might become one of them.

Except he hadn’t really. He was doing this by choice, for one, and he had a support structure, albeit only in the form of Cassandra. So somehow he’d thought it would be… easier? Perhaps not the right word but he had no other. He’d expected the pain and the cravings and assumed that he could endure, while leaning occasionally on Cassandra when it became necessary. 

What had hadn’t expected was the desires that raged through him. 

There wasn’t a great deal of information around about how lyrium affected Templars. He suspected there might be more but that it was restricted only to people like the Lord Seeker and the Knight Vigilant. The very senior members of the Order. What little information he’d found and that Cassandra had passed on _had_ implied that lyrium suppressed certain urges and desires and Cullen had been inclined to agree. He knew from experience that unless adrenaline was already coursing through the body, ready to be redirected to something other than fear or fighting, arousal had been a slow process unless you chose to… help it along its way with a judicious potion or two. Not something he’d done often – he wasn’t really one for casual flings, he didn’t like the way the potions made him feel afterwards and he… well, he liked the slow build.

But now that he was no longer taking lyrium and he was far enough along the withdrawal that the day to day lyrium was out of his system, all of that was returning to what he assumed was normal. Or rather what he dearly hoped was a _floodwave_ that would leave him somewhere normal. Because this? Was driving him mad.

He’d been fine, more or less, at the beginning. He’d even enjoyed it, enjoyed exploring his body’s reaction to touch, even if it was only from his own two hands instead of someone else. But then Mahanon had recovered from closing the Breach and had gone from wary, uncertain captive to a confident elven archer and ‘ _not_ the Herald of Andraste, thank you very much, oh very well, Creators, this is stupid’. Cullen had been concerned about the captive, worried that Cassandra was letting her fear and anger cloud her judgement but there had been little more. However when Mahanon, proud Dalish archer, had walked into the War Room and been wry and witty and clever and compassionate and intelligent… well, Cullen had been lost.

He’d been mortified and ashamed the first time he’d pictured Mahanon’s hands touching him and had the best orgasm of his entire life. Then, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop and it became worse when Mahanon proved to a very tactile person, always clapping him on the shoulder or nudging him in the side and even occasionally ruffling his hair so that he could laugh at Cullen’s growls. It was as though Mahanon had kicked his already recovering sex drive to a higher level. And it had nearly driven him mad. His only saving grace was that the thick leather breeches he wore _contained_ things well enough that he didn’t embarrass himself every time Mahanon came to speak to him.

But his biggest problem was that he didn’t know if this was normal or just something that would pass given enough time. Whether this was just an aspect of the withdrawal that would fade with time or whether he truly felt this desire for Mahanon, that it was his own and not influenced by anything else.

And that was why he’d rejected Mahanon’s advances once he realised that’s what they were. It wasn’t what he wanted. Maker _knows_ it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to kiss Mahanon. He wanted Mahanon to touch him _everywhere_ and to touch in return. He wanted to feel Mahanon move within him and to know what it was like to make love to the elf. He wanted… he just _wanted_.

But he couldn’t be sure those wants and desires were real. So he said no. So he watched Mahanon droop a little for a moment before rallying, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly manner and continuing the conversation as though it had never happened. He watched as Mahanon wandered over to the Iron Bull and later as he laughed and flirted with Dorian. He watched and despaired as the withdrawal progressed and the flood of wanton desires ebbed into something more manageable, more normal, and his feelings for Mahanon stayed steady, knowing he had lost his chance.

Then it all changed. Haven fell, Corypheus rose, the Inquisition was established at Skyhold and Mahanon was proclaimed Inquisitor. Cullen knew that he had to tell Mahanon about the withdrawal now. An agent of the Inquisition could be kept out of that particular loop, the Inquisitor could not. He’d intended to go to Mahanon to tell him but the moment came sooner than he preferred when Mahanon had come to his office and found him staring at his long-unused kit as he summoned the courage to admit what he was doing.

Mahanon had been worried but understanding and willing to trust to Cullen and Cassandra’s judgement and Cullen had thought that was that but then the Inquisitor had paused as he was about to leave and turned back to him.

“Was that why?”

Cullen frowned. “Was that why what?”

Mahanon closed the door and took a few steps towards the desk. “Was that why you said no? I know you didn’t mean it. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching and the Creators know Bull’s been descriptive enough about what he’s seen. Was it because of the withdrawal? Because you didn’t want to tell me about it?”

Cullen flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I… yes. And no. I… it’s true that I would prefer that as few people as possible know about what I’m doing but that… wasn’t exactly the reason I said no.”

“Then it wasn’t because you’re not interested?”

Cullen swallowed. “No.”

Mahanon closed the gap between them and Cullen backed away until he hit the wall of his office. Mahanon didn’t stop until he was less than a step away from him.

“Then what was it?” the Inquisitor demanded. “Because I’ve spent a lot of nights alone with only my own hand for company and I’d like to know why that was necessary.”

Cullen blushed and closed his eyes at the mental image Mahanon’s words inspired. A thin thready moan escaped him and the elf chuckled.

“Like that idea, do you?”

Cullen opened his eyes and saw Mahanon grinning wickedly at him. He licked his lips and nodded. “Yes.”

Mahanon’s grin widened for a moment then his entire expression softened and reached out and drew his fingers along Cullen’s jaw. “Please tell me,” he said softly.

Cullen’s blush deepened and he licked his lips. “Lyrium dulls certain… desires,” he began hesitantly. “It doesn’t get rid of them, just makes them… more distant unless you take potions or your adrenaline is already up.” Mahanon nodded and gestured for him to keep going. “The withdrawal… it all came back. It was… strong.”

He was blushing so hard he knew his face must be hot with it but he knew he needed to explain so he forced himself to continue.

“I didn’t know if it… what I felt… was just a side effect of the withdrawal or whether it was real.” He gulped. “It’s been a long time since I felt anything other than anger or fear or despair. I didn’t know if it was real and if it wasn’t…”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He felt Mahanon’s hand cradle his cheek and then the man was leaning against him.

“Open your eyes, Cullen.”

Cullen obeyed and saw compassion and understanding and desire and even a little mirth in the Inquisitor’s eyes.

“And now?”

Cullen licked his lips. Mahanon’s gaze flickered down to watch him do that and he felt as much as heard the tiny sound the elf made. It sent a shiver through him and he could feel his body reacting.

“Now I know it’s not a side effect,” he whispered. “It’s real.”

Mahanon smiled and Cullen wished he could make the elf smile like that all the time.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought I’d lost my chance,” Cullen said with a shake of his head.

“Never.” Mahanon curled a hand round the back of Cullen’s neck. “Now, Commander, I have a request for you. Kiss me.”

Cullen smiled, his eyes alight with happiness. “At your command, Inquisitor.”


End file.
